


Naturegirl

by Clever_Girl_22



Category: Moulin Rouge! (2001), Moulin Rouge!: The Musical - Various/Logan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Minor Violence, Moulin Rouge! 20th Birthday, Personal Growth, Retcon: The Killers Music, Satine's POV, Semi-Public Sex, True Love, gosh Satine is gorgeous i just wow i can't, i wrote this in a week so buckle up buttercup let's get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clever_Girl_22/pseuds/Clever_Girl_22
Summary: It is finally time for Satine to sing her song.Happy 20th Anniversary to Baz's Moulin Rouge! This movie (and musical) taught me so many things about life, and it only felt right to give Satine the voice she deserves. The music is replaced entirely by lyrics from The Killers; enjoy!
Relationships: Christian/Satine (Moulin Rouge!), Harold Zidler & Satine (Moulin Rouge!), Le Chocolat & Satine (Moulin Rouge!), Marie & Satine (Moulin Rouge!), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nini Legs-in-the-Air/Satine, The Duke/Satine (Moulin Rouge!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. But First, Caution!

**Author's Note:**

> And here is another first-fic into a fandom for me! The movie and score are so near and dear to my heart; I had so much fun creating this!
> 
> All rights to lyrics go to The Killers band; I will attach a link to a full song list (Tumblr) in the 'Endnotes' based on chapter appearance.
> 
> Chapter One: "Caution" (Imploding the Mirage, 2020).

**_There is nothing I wouldn't do..._ **

**_There is nothing I wouldn't give..._ **

_A curtain closing, rose petals and confetti falling. The girl, Harold--the only family I have left--dance and cheer around me. They are cheering for me._

**_There is nothing...I wouldn't do..._ **

_The air is loud and smells of cheap smoke; the audience roars my name and I can picture him leaving--Yes! Leave! Crawl away to some other lonely mistress or runaway whore you happen to come across. It is not I whom you will be paying tonight. Satine has triumphed!_

**_There is nothing...I wouldn't give..._ **

_And then a face looms over me...oh. Why are there tears? Why are there tears in my boy's eyes?_

_"Christian?"_

_Why is my darling crying?_

**_There is nothing..._ **

_"You can't leave me!" He sobs, "You cannot leave me! Not so soon!"_

_Ah, the blood. The blood, the disease, that lived in my throat and lungs has finally caught up with me. Oh, Christian, I am so sorry. I wanted to be your muse; I wanted to create with you, put our beautiful story to paper and fame. I wanted to eternalize our story because mine was not nearly as beautiful without you._

_"Christian, it's okay." I say._

_The loudness continues and I can smell the makeup sweating off my face, dripping off my eyelids and flaking off my lashes. My lips are cracked yet dainty. I am still your muse. I was everyone's muse._

**_There is nothing..._ **

_I can't let go just yet._

**_Compelling me..._ **

_No; I can't! He needs to know. He must know where I came from, how I journeyed with him to be who I am now. He must know why I am who I am. I tilted my face up and beckon his attention._

_"Christian, dear, my mamma was a dancer and that's all that I knew. She was a dancer so I was a dancer too. My mother was a dancer, a showgirl, and that's all that I knew because when you live in the slums, down on your luck, it's what pretty girls do."_

_He's holding my body, rocking us back and forth, mumbling away...but Christian! I need you to hear my voice one last time! I never had a diamond in the sole of my shoes; just black-top, white-trash, wistfully wasting away in a windmill. And then you--Christian, hush! Please don't cry anymore._

_I reach up, my fingers just touching his cheeks--those tear-stained, round cheeks; he is melting in my touch, becoming a puddle of snot and whimpers. The world is growing hazy to me._

_"Christian, i want you to know..."_

_My voice is drowning in red. Red is everywhere: my dress, my hair, the lights, my lips, everyone's faces, the floor beneath me...my whole life has been red. He needs to know why. With a burst of energy, I grab his chin and make him look at me._

_"Christian, I threw caution--I loved you!" I rasp._

_The blood from my lungs and throat is in my spit and my chest is heaving, rising and falling with no rhythm. Damn...I've lost my rhythm. I need him to look and listen; this is no place to cry, not at a time like this! Christian; what's it gonna be? Tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free...i must tell you my side of our story!_

_Christian, my angel, I couldn't tell you, not when we already had so little time together. I didn't want to ruin joy with my plight...Christian! Please, dry those eyes! Christian, my darling; my darling Christian. You are all I cared for._

_I hid all my fears, the ones that plagued me since i was a girl, but he needs...you need to know now. No more hiding. You need to know now, darling. Dearest. Loverboy. You need to know to know why you were my loverboy. Because it's some type of sin to live your whole life...on a might have been..._

_"Christian, my love!"_

_And he stares, gaze rapt to my fading face._

**_I'm ready now..._ **


	2. Forever a Star-Crossed Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this fic will be in 1st POV. I realize that's not a fanfic-favorite for readers, but I thought it over and felt it was proper for this story, given Christian narrates the movie's plot. My goal was to mirror the experience as best as possible.
> 
> Chapter Two: "Romeo and Juliet" (Sawdust, 2007) / "Spaceman" (Day and Age, 2008)

_ These stories all start the same: a lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade, laying everybody low with a love song that he made. And I was just another Juliet, foolish enough to sing along. _

_ I had wanted to be an actress, so I moved here, to Paris, in hopes of realizing my dream; I was younger, then and while other women my age were settling down and getting married, I decided to focus on something more alluring. You really can't get anywhere when there's always someone around, holding you down. So, instead of searching for a husband, I searched for a partner of a different kind; he was a contractor for a budding theater and was one of the most cunning, cool-headed men I'd ever known. And I planned to milk every ounce of support I could from him. _

_ But things escalate, as they always do, and I fell in love; real, deep love. It was a love of fierce fondness--we spent all our time together, every waking moment, and for a while I started to forget about my dream of stardom. They were beginning to feel frivolous, for how could I ever be as happy as I was then in comparison? How could I ever hope to be as happy one my own as I was with someone else? I had boys before, but they were mere playthings--this here was a gentleman who could keep me safe and happy for all my dying days. So, I spend less and less time practicing soliloquies as lines and more and more time producing sonnets of a different sentiment. Oh, when we made love, I used to cry! He'd say, ‘I love you like the stars above, I love you until I die!’ _

_ I believed him. Then, he got busy. _

_ What kept his time--the theater, the female employees, the paperwork--it had never really mattered to me. True, there were times he came to me unpleasantly, but I ignored it. Yet, it became a more common occurance for my lover to come home late and ill-tempered, screaming scathing obscenities and laying hands on me in a harsher tone. And I put up with it for weeks and months, believing that he still loved me for who I was and not for the value of my talent. I was nothing more than a man's plaything. And the more evils I endured, the more it became clear than I needed to save myself. _

_ So, like all good actresses, I played my audience's favorite part: I was this man's smitten whore, his submissive, cowering sexdoll that only longed for attention and agressive affection. he'd belittle me, beat me every night, bemused by his bludgeoning. And every night I would rise to perform again with perfect posture and eloquent diction, if only to steal a few euros every once in a while. I was the star in my own tragedy, and I tapped into every vein of character he desired. Eventually, I had enough money to flee, running away in the cover of night to  _ _ Montmartre. I had done it; I was free! _

_ But, looking back, I was devastated. This man showed me pain under the guise of love, and it proved how naive I still was. We can all fall for chains of silver, fall for chains of gold; we can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold. My heart was broken into ugly pieces--he'd promised everything, he'd promised thick and thin. And there I was, sitting in a dingy cutter on a corner of a drug drop off, hungry and cold. He had promised me everything! And I was left with nothing. _

_ I guess that the time was wrong for us. _

_ But no matter; my soul was still intact, as was my spirit. No silly distractions would ever take me away from my goals ever again! I searched and scoured the district, looking for anything to feed myself with, something maybe even to buy a room at. Eventually, I came across the Moulin Rouge. First it was the flier, then the obnoxiously suggestive catcalls, then I finally found the infamous windmills. One look at the showgirls' promotion poster and I was hooked on the opportunity to expand my resume. And Harold, oh, he was immediately charmed with me. I still have that effect on people, it seems. _

_ This was a fresh start, a new beginning, and, dammit, I was never going to let some foolish romance disrupt my aspirations ever again... _

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

"Hey, new girl! You ready in there?"

The knock on the door was irritated and distinct, and I was  _ not _ going to quit doing my hair just yet.

_ "Goddammit, _ Nini..."

The knocking continued, but I ignored it; it continued to grow only louder.

_ "God _ **_damn_ ** _ it. _ "

With a huff, I push myself away from my vanity and yank the door open, revealing a rather aggravated Nini in the entrance. She had her arms crossed as she always did and was glaring at me through her ridiculously thin set of bangs.

"What do you want?" I sigh.

"We got another special request," Nini explains, "And they want  _ both _ of us this time."

We exchanged a grimace; special requests almost always involved a threesome, a catfight, or some type of polymorphous roleplay. I had gotten quite a few private requests in the month I had been working here, so much so that my success on the dancefloor rivaled that of even Nini's; she was not amused, to say the least. But like i cared--there is no mercy in show business, and I am the rising star of this production. 

I turn back to my vanity and ask, "How much time do I have left?"

Nini rolls her eyes, "All the time in the fucking world--you got fifteen minutes to meet me in the Red Room, or I'll tell Harold how you pickpocketed the last piece of shit client you had."

Just then, Marie (the informal matriarch of the employees) bustles by with an armful of dresses.

"Nini! Get your ass upstairs and stop nagging Satine; she's got to get into  _ character." _ She snaps.

Ah, yes, 'in character': the ability to realize everything is all in your mind. It was an unspoken joke among us dancers that the only character a paying client wanted was a woman without any character. We detath nd deframe ourselves in order to please others. I have gotten quite good at that. A snarl from Nini's lips bears submission as she tails Marie upstairs, leaving me to smirk into a dingy mirror. With that attitude, I'd be taking away her role as lead in no time. It's a shame, really; Nini just doesn't have the sweetness I can portray. She doesn't have the range, I guess. What a tragedy.

I sit back down, grab my brush, and turn my phonograph on, its weathered spirit rasping to life. It groans and whirs, music blaring:

_ "--you know that I was hoping that I could leave this star-crossed world behind, but when they cut me open--" _

The Moulin Rouge wasn't ideal: too many girls and too little space lead to starving nights and lonely days. But I  _ was _ the only other girl besides Nini now who has their own room...maybe I  _ did _ like it here. 

"I guess I've changed my mind."

I hum along as I take long strokes, my hair the color of fire and my eyes the shape of diamonds. My last client was rather, well,  _ vigorous _ in their foreplay, so touching up was only bound to happen. By the bed, my sweet, little canary sings along, twittering away all merrily.

_ "--The star maker says, 'It ain't so bad', the dream maker's gonna make you mad, the spaceman says, 'Everybody look down'--" _

Another knock on the door comes, though softer and much lower to the ground. I smile as i get up to answer it.

"Oh, why hello, Toulouse!"

The little man gives me a cheery smile and hands me a letter; it smells of gothic wood and has a handsome wax seal on it's lips.

"As of today, Madame Satine," Toulouse says excitedly, "We have confirmation of an appointment with Herr Duke of Monemarte!"

I snatch the letter in disbelief, "No way!"

"Yes way! In exactly one month he is requesting a private meeting with you and Zidler." He says proudly.

Yes! The Duke will be my key to success! Oh, we jump for joy snd squeal and laugh because this is our chance to put the Moulin Rouge--and me--on the map! This will no longer be a slum of society, no longer a heinous hole for the wealthy and the privileged; we'll be a real production and I shall be a real, genuine actress! Finally, this place is going to give me what I've always wanted.

"Ready?" Nina calls from outside.

Giddy, I take one last glance at the letter before returning it to Toulouse.

"Go show this to Harold." I urge.

Toulouse winks, "And you go work your magic!"

*****************************

To our unpleasant surprise, the greasy gentleman sitting in the Elephant Room's lounge chair hadn't wanted anything frisky, just a typical one-on-one between us girls. Nini and I exchange a look of pure disain; we already loathe each other enough as it was. With a huff, Nini flopped on the bed, but not without a murmur of distaste. She absolutely  _ hated _ when our clients chose me to take control of our intercourse.

And so our gig went off: Nini, legs flailing in the air, moaning and taunting me while I nipped and sucked at her thighs; she pulled my hair as we exchanged kisses and bites and spanks and dirty, little secrets as if they actually meant something to us. Because none of the affection we give means anything to us. Delighted, our client sat smoking his cigar, humming and hawing as we rocked and grinded to the music he had turned on. Hazily, I realize it's the same song as early, suddenly souring in its words:

_ "--and the public don't dwell on my transmission 'cause it wasn't televised, but it was the turning point; Oh, what a lonely night!" _

That's right--no one cares what we do, us gallivanting girls down here; we're all just dogs in their eyes. Lowly. Undeserving of love, but maybe worth a few crumpled bills. That's all these men ever see.

In a wave of white-hot, I feel myself release, squealing and groaning to our client's raceous clapping and cheering. Nini looks up through angry, hooded eyes, and I can already tell she knows she's lost her place at the top. Harold will surely give me a raise; it really ain't so bad.

Nobody can do it like me, anyways. Nobody can lie like me, steal people's hearts like me, give men what they want like me--I am the best this whore house will see...it's the only way I can leave it; it's the only way I can be free. And once I'm free, singing and dancing on a stage of my own, no one will ever touch me again. I will finally be my own star, yes, soon! I'm just playing my part until my next roll comes along. Anything else is just all in my own little mind.


	3. Battleborn Babes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three: "Flesh and Bone" [Jacques Lu Cont Remix] (Battleborn, 2012) / "The Man" (Wonderful, Wonderful; 2017)

Weeks came and went and then it arrived: Harold had us ladies lined up, curtain closed and waiting to announce our presence. A crowd could be heard outside, cheering and chanting and demanding our affection. And in this crowd, somewhere among the sea of cocktails and top hats, is the man who will finally give me what I've been looking for.

"Girls," Harold booms, "Tonight is no ordinary event--tonight we reel in our most  _ generous _ guest yet!"

I see Blondie and Nini exchange a murmur, while some of the other girls fidget with their skirts. Suddenly, my excitement is too much; come now! This is not the type of performance that will impress the Duke!

"Ladies! Must we forget who we are?" I cry, drawing their attention, "Tonight, we are every man's wildest dream, strongest desire, and most riveting escape from reality! We are envied and pinned for and coveted by every single one of those gentlemen out there. Surely, one silly Duke isn't going to stop  _ us _ from putting up a good show!"

I lock eyes with Harold and he nods curtly, but in his eyes I can see that I was his only pick for tonight. Only  _ I _ can do this. The girls' murmuring increasings; past the curtains, i can hear the orchestra fine-tuning themselves, the air bouncing with an electronic beat. I tuck back a few stray locks of hair; Harold climbs to his position on the stage's balcony and raises his hands in the air.

"Alright, girls, you heard her! I believe it is  _ finally _ showtime!"

With a roar, the curtains fly open and I retreat backstage, psychedelic lighting and sounds erupting from the stage as the girls begin to twirl and shriek for attention. I can hear cheering from tonight's audience, smiling to myself as the sound of my names increases in volume and repetition.

"You sure know how to draw a crowd, eh?" Marie remarks, saddling up to mer as I head back to my dressing room.

I smirk, "I always do!"

I take a quick trot through the rafters, watching the dancer boys twirl and whirl, singing with all their might;

_ "They'll call me the contender, they'll listen for the bell with my face flashing crimson from the fires of hell." _

Ah, I am ready to  _ blow _ these old fools clean out of their seats! If i can just impress--

"Don't forget your medicine, hun."

...right.

Marie hands me a vial prescribed roughly a month ago, when all this can-can bullshit began. A client had wanted a gag on me for a session and the next thing I knew I was coughing up a crimson storm. Thankfully, the gentlemen hadn't asked for a refund. The doctor had said it could be tuberculosis or even an STI, but who the Hell cares; Harold saw it as a sign from God to get going with my future. I take the vial like it's nothing. I can still sing, no worries.

"Make sure you take it this time," Marie warns, "We  _ don't _ want you passing out."

She rattles off a few more gentle scoldings, then leaves me to my business. Inside, my dressing room is quiet, the downstairs music filtering in through the brick walls alongside Harold's conducting. 

_ "And time is raging, may it rage in vain; and you always had it, but you never knew, so boots and saddles, get on your feet. There's no surrender, cause there's no retreat! The bells are sounding, bring this match to an end--we are the descendants of giant men!" _

Oh, Harold, always the one for theatrics.

Just then, as I sort out my costume changing sequence for the third time, my darling Guardian slips in. He smiles softly and points towards the clock: twenty minutes before my number.

"Oh, yes, I know," I tease with the wave of a hand, "I'm always ready for anything!"

I grab at a handful of tea leaves and toss them into the kettle, starting up the water and pulling a cigarette from my dresser drawer. I offer both up, but Chocolate only takes the teacup, declinding the smoke. Once our drink is done, we sit and chat, I on my dressing stool and he on my vanity. Though we talk of nothing important, the company is pleasant; my Guardian has always been by my side, watching my back when men got too close or too rough, but how could I ever repay him? I'll leave this place one day and he'll be nothing more than a bittersweet memory, unfortunately, a face I will only think of with gratitude and sadness. Sometimes I wonder if there even is a point in making connections when this is all just a temporary life out here.

Time passes and it's time; I set down my teacup, toss out my smoke, and shimmy into my corset, Marie hurrying in to tie me up tight. I take one last glance at my makeup and costume before we head out, Marie grabbing my costume change-change pieces and props while Le Chocolate stands solemn. Hurrying out, I take yet another glance at my makeup--my left eye is smudged. 

They won't care; all these men just want my flesh and bone, after all.

I can hear the music--the same static beat--thumping and swelling. My Guardian gives me a boost up the ladder and onto my swing.

**_And what are you made of?_ **

Soon (now, even), I'll get my chance. I will leave after I am a star--yes, finally, a  _ real _ actress. These dancers are kind too, but I need to leave one way or another. There's nobody here to keep me, anyways.

**_Cause I'm running out of time_ **

The lights are getting brighter, the air is getting louder, and I can feel my spirit rising. I'll keep playing this part--the whore, the infamous matriarch of this rundown hellhole. I'll be anything they want, just as long as I succeed. It doesn't matter how.

**_And what are you made of?_ **

It doesn't matter who gets involved, who I take out or string on along the way. I will climb even higher!

**_What are you made of?_ **

It's the only way to grasp my dream!

**_What are you made of? What are you made of? What are you made of?_ **

A cry--then, silence. I adjust the pins in my hair and little hat, stretch my shoulder once more. The swing is dangling over darkness, but my time is now. Harold is announcing my stage name--the Sparkling Diamond--and the music for my number revs up.

Gentlemen! May I present to you our  _ main _ event! Our  _ Sparkling _ Diamond, our fiery femme  _ fatale! _ I present--

The spotlights go off:  _ Pop! Flash! _ A thick beat crackles and snaps in the air-- _ wham!  _ Lower and lower, I dip off my perch and hum a few of the verses, waiting to sing my part...then, I burst forth:

_ "I know the score like the back of my hand; them other boys, I don't give a damn! They kiss on the ring, I carry the crown; nothing can break, nothing can break me down--" _

I swing my perch around, gracing eagar hands and blowing kisses while I whoop with zeal; I toss my hair and land with grace, a fiery phoenix landing in glory among its worshippers. These old boys goggling at me are mere mortals compared to my aspiration!

_ "Don't need no advice; I got a plan! I know the direction, the lay of the land! I know the score like the back of my hand; them other boys, I don't give a damn!" _

Walk, walk, saunter over to then left and twirl; the dancer boys surround me like guard dogs, circling as our grimy guests groped at me. They throw coins and jewelry; one young lad, someone of my rare age, tries to offer me a bouquet of roses. Ugh, how cute! No matter; I slid over to him--

_ "--I got gas in the tank, I got money in the bank, I got news for you baby--" _

\--and toss those pretty flowers aside! The crowd goes wild and I shake my ass over him and dance away, my hair bouncing and my smile dazzling. Twirl, twirl--oh! I laugh as a gentleman slaps my ass; I howl with delight as another grabs at my chest. I'm just playing another part--this character here doesn't give a damn what others think of her! She's the best, she's the star, she's  _ always _ above these fools.

_ "I got skin in the game, I got a household name, I got news for you baby: You're looking at the man!" _

"Harold!" I cry, watching him shimmey and strut away from a corner booth.

It's the Duke, no doubt! I waltz up to our rendezvous and climb the stage, the rest of the girls frolicking and jiving as my music blares. A horde of guests grab me and hoist me up, surfing me to meet Harold on the platform.

_ "Right hand to God, first in command; my testimony when I take the stand--" _

"You're doing splendid, Gosling!"

Harold croons, dangling costume jewelry in front of me as I playfully swipe at it.

"Is the Duke here?" I ask.

"Very good memory, firebird; yes, let me check on him--ah!"

I hear a slight panic in his voice, but think nothing of it.

"Where  _ is _ he?!"

"He's the one Toulouse is shaking a hankie at!"

And I peer, eyes squinted as I wave my props above my head. Then, magic: the world slows, the music fades, and--

_ "Oh. _ Oh, he is  _ enamoring." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright these two songs just slap; the tuberculosis has always been a headcanon of mine, given the time/setting of the story, as well as the symptoms. My nurse-friend said it could be a type of STI/STD, but I have no clue.


	4. Powered By a Hot Fuss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four: "Somebody Told Me" (Hot Fuss, 2004) / "Midnight Show" (Hot Fuse, 2004)

"Are you  _ sure?" _

The boy sitting with Toulouse and his crew looked way too young, too timid to be even an accountant, much less some type of wealthy Duke!

Harold takes another look, "That's the one, Chickpea!"

I try to take another look, buty Harold pulls under a sea of underskirts and panties for my costume change. 

"Will he invest?"

"Of course!" Harold insists, helping undo my laces and handing me a wayward brush, "Just remember: a real theater, a real, live audience, and you'll be..."

I pause as I check my makeup.

"A  _ real _ actress."

And suddenly there is nothing in the world I want more than this. I can do this, I  _ must _ do this! I flash a smile, hike up my left strap, and burst upwards, I in my flamingo outfit and Harold cheekily in his long underwear. I saunter up and out, parting the sea of scummy gentlemen drooling over me and stalk towards my prey. Hah! The poor boy looks terrified! The music picks up a pace, lyrics screaming of lust and longing as I finally arrive. 

I bat my eyes and leer, "I believe you've been expecting me."

Poor pup; he's absolutely flabbergasted! I reach out my hand, but the boy heistates, so I pout and tell off the growing crowd among us with a few shimmies and hollers. Toulouse, the Argentinean, and the pit masters huddle around him, their little ringleader egging my client on and pushing him forward. I give one more shimmey in his stunned face and shake until he's silly.

"Don't worry Toulouse, I'll take care of it!" I say, grabbing the boy and yanking him to his feet; the crowd goes wild as we waltz to the main stage.

_ "A-breaking my back just to know your name but heaven ain't close in a place like this! Anything goes, but don't blink, you might miss 'cause heaven ain't close in a place like this, I said, a-heaven ain't close in a place like this!" _

We stride to the middle of the dancefloor, the envy of all; I grab him and whip my hair to the beat, slide down, down, down past his waist and feel him jump as I feel him up long and good. I continue to giggle; every touch makes him jolt! The dance floor is a storm of activity, girls wailing and flailing about, but I am all that he sees. How adorable! This is almost too easy.

"It's so nice of you to take an interest in our production," I remark, "We've worked so hard to make ourselves a reputable production!"

"Why, yes; I am very flattered! It all sounds very exciting!" My clients yells over the boom.

We twirl and whirl, dipping and diving to the beat.

"Toulouse said we can have a meeting; I hope you'll like what I do!" He cries.

He winks at his tablemates and tips his hat in their direction--I can't help but laugh aloud. He is  _ fiendishly _ charming! 

"I'm sure I will!"

The music continues to roar on as we weave through the crowd. Upstage, I can see Harold prancing like a mad man.

_ "Ready let's roll onto something new! Taking its toll, then I'm leaving without you 'cause heaven ain't close in a place like this, I said, a-heaven ain't close in a place like this! Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight! Ooh, ooh ooh!" _

"Perhaps I can perform for you in private!" The boy suggests loudly, "Y'know, a private p-poetry meeting!"

He dips me lower and pulls me startling close to his face, so close I can notice the nervous sweat on his face. 

I grin deviously, "Oh! Oh, I'd  _ love _ a little  _ poetry _ after supper!"

He blushes so quickly; I blow him a little kiss before I scurry back to my swing, the other gentlemen tossing their hats in the air. I toss a few kisses, throw a few winks, and let loose some howls as the crowd draws closer and closer, the dancers practically barricading me as I ascend. Oh, look at my adoring fan--someday, yes, someday soon, they will come from all over the country just to see me sing or watch me act! Yes, soon this will all be real!

_ "It's not confidential, I've got potential! A-rushing, a-rushing around!" _

The lights dim and focus on me, and I can barely see my client among the others...this boy, yes, he is the key to my success. He will liberate me and let me live the life I want to!

_ "It's not confidential, I've got potential! A-rushing, a-rushing around!" _

And suddenly I feel my lungs contract; my breathing becomes difficult, my face gets all hot and sticky, and in an instant I regret the full vial sitting on my vanity. 

**_"AHHHH!"_ **

**********************

Ugh, what is that  _ smell?  _

I hear whispering, Momē and Nini and Arabia and China Doll all murmuring. God, why is it so  _ hot _ all of a sudden? I can feel sweat sticking, soiling my makeup...the Duke! I can't be seen looking or feeling like this! I need to look absolutely ravishing; it's the only way I--

"Satine, love, are you alright?"

Marie peers over me, a vial in her hands. Dammit. Le Chocolate and Babydoll stand behind her, Marie holding ah nakie to my mouth while I cough into it. Argh, God, I can taste copper in my mouth...

"It's alright, deary, it's alright." Marie croons.

The stage manager suddenly bustles in, shooing everyone out onto the stage until Marie snaps at him; I continue to hack out spit and mucus into the handkerchief. Marie brushes the hair from my eyes and leads me over to the bath (I must have been put in my room), chattering and combing out my hair while I soak and scrub myself.

Why is she always so kind to me? Marie could have latched onto another girl, but she fawns over me. Maybe it's because I have the most potential; I'll never know. For some reason, sitting in the tub, I can't help but realize that I'd miss her, as well as my Guardian and Harold...maybe I'd even miss Nini. They were the family I had been taken into--no mother or lover had ever wanted me, noty in the way I needed it, so why could I settle here? I could live out my days quite happy here, being the Moulin Rouge's Sparkling Diamond until my hair was grey. It was certainly better than other experiences beforehand.

But as Marie yanks out another snarl, it becomes apparent: to stay here would be a curse. The Moulin Rouge is a world where the wealthy and empowered come to play with the vain and beautiful creatures of the underworld; here, I am only worth what Harold is willing to charge guests. This is no place for a budding actress. And the only way I can achieve  _ that _ is to milk this Duke for all he's worth. Then and only then will I be my own client.

Once I'm done bathing, I redress into something more comfortable than earlier, Marie pulling with all her might on the corset cords while I apply my eyeshadow once more. We talk--like a nurse and her charge--of little nothings: dresses, boys, dream, and Sarah Bernhardt. Small, insignificant things. All ladies dare to say as much about their dreams.

"You're gonna hook that Duke, love, I can feel it!" Marie blathers on excitedly, "Don't worry about that little fainting spell, you've the medicine in you--should be you going for the night."

I agree exuberantly as Harold bursts in, his own stage makeup pool in his growing wrinkles; he has the most deire expression on his face.

"Duckling is everything alright?!" He cries.

I share a smirk with my mirror and twirl for him to see my new outfit.

"Absolutely!" I beam, "I believe it's time to give the Duke a proper midnight show!"

And, together, the three of us jump for joy and celebrate my so far success of a campaign, Harold and Marie chattering away as I take one last moment to add the final touch the my face: a healthy dose of blood-red lipstick. 

_ Showtime! _

***************************

Up in the Elephant Room, I find my client waiting, back turned, as I announce my entrance and undress. He--rather potentially, keeps himself turned as I strip. Oh, Lord, this will be too easy! I hum for his attention, making sure to kick out my legs just enough for the slit in the dress to have its effect.

"Listen, my good man, I know what we've discussed for our evening plans," I purr, "So I hope you will be willing to cooperate accordingly."

Finally, the boy spins to face me; he is rapt with an abashed sense of awe. 

I leer, "I will give you quite the midnight show, but only if you can keep a  _ secret _ for me, hm?"

I make no note of his mute response, instead skipping over to the refreshment cart someone had brought up, taking a few grapes and shaking loose the champagne bottle from its ice.

"Would you care for some cham--"

"I'd rather, um, get it over with--um, get on with it, if that's alright." My client interrupts.

I huff. Pushy and insecure, by the sound of it; how disappointing. Regardless, I flash him a smile. No matter! The show goes on for me.

"Fine by me," I croon, "I'm sure you're just  _ aching _ to get on with the  _ poetry _ you're treating me to tonight."

"Yes, yes. You can sit, if you'd like--I'd prefer to stand myself. It might, um, take a little while..." He mumbles, totally on edge.

Hm, what an odd fellow...this might be harder than I thought. I flop onto the bed, my legs splayed and skirts open so he can look up, up,  _ up _ ...but the Duke keeps his distance. Strange, very strange.

"What I do is quite modern," He explains, "So maybe--"

"Ah, yes, naughty words! Do go on!" I cry encouragingly.

He's standing and sputtering, mumbling away and glancing all over the place while I try my best to be patient. Hm, he needs some  _ inspiration, _ that's all! Just a little something to get going with! I creep up towards him, caressing his chest, his hips, and finally draw a hand over his pelvis. The boy looks absolutely aghast.

"Let me take a little off your mind!"

I slip my hand into his trouser and rub against his shaft, the Duke so stunned and shocked he can hardly register as I toss both of us into the bed, hopping on top and grinding instantly.

"Oh, yes," I groan, "We're just a good thing, aren't we? We're just such a  _ good _ thing!"

He dumbly kisses me as I unbutton him, lingering only when I've gotten into his pants. Oh,  _ oh _ he's a  _ big _ boy, I see! I continue you on, kissing and pulling him closer as I rub against the stunned client.

"I need this, yes! I need your poetry now!" I demand, moaning for added effect.

"Okay, Okay!" 

And he tosses himself off the bed, scrambling to his feet as I try to regain my composure. Honestly, what the Hell is going on? I've never had a client so...so...dammit he broke the fly to his zipper. This boy is a mess!

"N-never had...had...no that's not it," He sputters, "Never-ah,  _ yes! _ Never had a lover! I never had a lover...come on,  _ think..." _

"Mmm, yes! Drive faster, boy!" I groan.

The poor Duke stands ridgid, bumbling through some obscure verses I had never heard of before as I bluntly encourage him on. I'll do anything to keep his attention at this point.

"I've never had a lover..."

"Drive faster, boy, ooh, yes!"

"I've...I-I've never had a...a soul"

"Oh,  _ drive faster! _ Oh, yes!  _ Yes!" _

"I've...damn...I've never--"

_ "Yes! _ Driver  _ faster, _ boy!"

I roll onto the floor, begging and groaning and throwing pillows about as he haphazardly goes on. He needs to know he's got my desire, right? He needs to know that my attention is captivated, my spirit drawn in. He needs to know that, even if it is a lie, I am his and  _ only _ his; the boy needs to see--

"Oh, um,  _ dammit! _ I never..."

"Drive  _ faster, _ boy! Ooh, yes!  _ Please!" _

"Never..."

"Yes,  _ yes!" _

"Never..."

Ah,  _ yes! _ Oh yes I--"

**_"Come with me!"_ **


	5. The Elephant in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Five: "Bones" (Sam's Town, 2006) / "Read My Mind" (Sam's Town, 2006)

The boy _sparkles_ in the moonlight.

_"Come with me!"_

And, immediately, the world lights up around us. He bursts forth in song, twisting to face me, confident and enlightened. Oh, my God! His voice is angelic! Beautacious! Psychedelic! His voice beckons me outward from behind the character I am playing for him.

_"Down to the ocean, it's only water and sand, and in the ocean, we'll hold hands! Put on a heartbeat glide; without an answer, the thunder speaks for the sky and on the cold, wet dirt I cry!"_

He grasps my hands and I can't help but smile! Like, actually, genuinely _smile;_ the look in his eyes is oh so innocent yet earnest. Oh! What is going on with me? His grin gets wider and shrugs and continues on;

_"Don't you wanna come with me? Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones? It's only natural!"_

Yes...yes I do! Suddenly, more than anything, I _do_ want to come with him! The boy grabs me--gently, not lustfully--and twirls me so fast that we are spinning through the starlight, the room dissolving into glitter as moonlight and streetlight illuminate our own private stage. We continue to ascend, the world twinkle alongside us and I feel rushes of emotions I barely knew were still within me!

_"Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones? It's only natural! Don't you wanna swim with me? Don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin? It's only natural!"_

Ah, the moon is singing with us, its voice sweet with operatic notes. Everything--the streets, the lights, the entire city itself, it seems--is joining us in chorus as this mysterious man drapes a red umbrella over up; the sky is exploding with confetti and fog. Wow. Just... _wow!_

I think I'm in love!

_"I never had a lover, I never had soul, and I never had a good time; I never got bold!"_

No! It can't be! I'm the one controlling the show; _I_ am the one who will woo this man, not the other way around! But...but his words. Oh, his _words_ are genuine and heartfelt...

_"Don't you wanna come with me? Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones? It's only natural!"_

Oh, God and Hell, I can't be doing this. Oh...

_"Come and take a swim with me; don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin? It's only natural!"_

...and just like that, we return to the Elephant Room, as suddenlyb as if we had never left it to begin with.

I sigh, "Oh, I can't believe it! I am in love!"

Really?" The man asks, breathless.

"Oh, yes! I am in _love_ with a handsome, talented Duke..."

Oh, the world is giving me hope. Everything is falling into place and sooner or later I will...

"But I'm a writer?"

_...what?_

"Damn that Toulouse!" I squeak, completely flustered with the revealed situation.

I push the imposter away from me; what will become of us? Any minute now, Harold is surely going to be coming along and introducing me to the _real_ Duke--oh, shit. I cannot let this idiot ruin my chances! I grab his overcoat and hat and shove them into his hands, pushing him while he protests towards the door.

"You need to leave!" I cry, "Otherwise i am done for!

"Why?" He asks, puzzled and refusing to budge.

Ugh, this absolute fool--so naive, so ignorant of how the social world works among us shows folk. He has no idea what an unhappy client is capable of these days!

"But don't you think you deserve to know me better without the influence of your acting career?" He blurts on.

"Why should I? A girl needs a home; she needs to eat and take care of herself. Writer or not, _you_ can't provide that. Now, please--" I grab the knob "--You need to leave! Now; we'll both be in trouble!"

I shove him forward, turn the knob and--

 _"AHH!_ The _Duke!"_ I shirked, slamming the door immediately.

"What?!"

I whip around the room, frantic to hide my stowaway. Under the bed? Too obvious! Off the balcony? Sure, if this moron could get his ass moving...the curtains? No--the door burst open and my unwanted guest nosedives behind the ruffles of my skirt. _Goddammit_. Harold and another man stand, waiting for my greetings. 

I clear my throat, "Ah, Herr Duke, I am so charmed to meet you. I must admit, I am quite delighted in how eager you are to learn more about our fabulous production!"

I size up my new opponent and come to realize that the Duke is nothing like the fool cowering behind my thighs: slouched, weasily, and dampening, this man could command rain clouds on a whim if given the chance. I'll be honest; I've had far worse, I guess. Internally, I isgh. This is just another man who wants to come and play with my body, extrapolate some dormant sentiments of wealthy or patriarchal power over another skimpy slut. I am nothing more, nothing less to his desires, so matter what fine words he manages to construct. The Duke grabs my left hand and kisses it as a greeting, his oily lips making my skin crawl.

"I am equally charmed, I assure you." He sneers.

Harold gives him one of signature winks and rushes away, the door slamming shut before my _other_ guest has time to escape. Hmpf! Typical. I sense him dip behind the refreshment cart; I'll deal with him later. Unfortunately, the Duke is already meandering over there. My hostage--Christian, I think is what Toulouse told me earlier--has no chance. I turn up the notch of my hysterics and fall to the Duke's knees, shrieking at him nonsense in order to provide some sort of distraction. God, this poor man must think I'm looney! The Duke stiffens under my touch--I'll have to use my strongest magic to woo him over.

"Please, I can only offer you my soul and my heart!" I cry, seek out Christian's mouth for muted guidance, "Yes, please, don't you want to come with me..."

I slide up, up, up and plant my hands on the Duke's shoulders, my eye contanct flicking between his and Christian's.

"Please. Come with me! My love for you is already so deep! Don't you want to feel my bones on your bones? It's only... _natural."_

And there is it: the zing in his eyes. I've nabbed the Moulin Rouge's first major investor. 

Yes, there's this type of _dazzle_ \--this is a win, not just for the business, but for _me._ Yes, this is one step closer to _my_ dreams. Christian, still behind the table, gives me a guaddy thumbs-up...and knocks into the champagne bucket. In response, I yank a startled Duke inot the bed and climb on top once again, only this time I'm going to finish my advances. We get to it, thrusting and moaning as I use every piece of my body to keep the Duke's eyes on anything but the other man in the room. I flip us in order to keep Christian in the blindspot, but that idiot for some reason is just _standing by the balcony and not running Christian what the Hell are you doing?!_ I narrow my eyes, threatening him as best as I can; he refuses to bude, trying to convey his somewhat childish displeasure at what he's witnessing. My eyes (somehow) narrow even further--fine, then. 

" We should wait!" I suggest, pushing myself out from underneath my victim, "We need to save this special moment for opening night!"

The Duke peeks up, comb-over as disarrayed as his facial expressions, "Wait, what?"

"Oh, I'm serious! I can't be all blushing and flustered if I want to perform to my best abilities!" I repeat; I push him towards the door.

"But I just got here!"

And just as quickly as he entered, I shoo him out, pressing my back against the door in wary relief. Once again, I make another save. Then, I turn to the moron still lounging about the balcony.

 _"You,"_ I seeth, "You! How could you--you lie to me? Do you have any _idea_ how...oh...oh no..."

I can feel myself once again descending towards the ground and my vision goes midnight-black.

********************

"--scantily-clad, with another _man_ in the middle of the night inside of an _elephant--"_

Oh, dammit all! What is going on _now?_ I try to look around and all I see is chaos: Christian is on top of me and the Duke is in the doorway, red as an angry bull. Son of a _bitch!_ I deftly cup my hands around Christian's cheeks and do my best to spin another story.

"Oh, I see you've met the _writer_ of the production...yes, come now, Christian, don't be shy..."

I glare at him as best as I can, but the world is still hazy to me. I pat his cheeks, trying to ignore the warmth I feel in his face. He smells of fresh water and Absinthe. The Duke looks none the less displeased; he snarls out a laugh, but before my dashing dimwit of an accomplice can conjure a proper introduction, Toulouse--of all people--burts into the scene, his band of friends following suite.

"Ah, so sorry!" He chirps, "We didn't mean to be late to the _emergency_ rehearsal!"

The musicians grab a chair and sit the Duke down and whirl about, grabbing for makeshift props and costumes while Christian finally introduces himself to the Duke. Then, thankfully, Harold arrives. He looks appalled at the scene--i would be too, naturally.

"What is going on in here?!" He cries.

Before anyone can answer, I shove myself in between him and the Duke.

"Oh, everything is alright, Harold," Ilie, "The Duke already knows about the _emergency rehearsal_ we scheduled--that's why he's so keen to _invest_ with us!"

Harold's eyes light up at the promise of a pretty penny; "Invest, you say?"

And I continue to spin a tale, introducing the boys' story alongside them; in a flash we are choreographic and scripting the story by pure spontaneity, singing and dancing about a courtesan and an evil Maharaj and a penniless sitar player who falls in love. We display India, exotic girls, elephants, and Bohemians as the DUke giddly taps his feet to the beat of our tune. Finally, I relax; my dream has been saved and is right back on track for success.

And thank God because now I got the greenlight and I still got some fight left in me to succeed. And I did it well--sure, there were some falters, some ad-libbed lines and surprise scenes, but nothing can dishevel me. No matter what, I never break my character here. I'm going to turn this thing, this life I lead, all around.

But then Christian looks back at me and suddenly I am once more up among the clouds with him--

_"But in the end she hears his song!"_

_"And their love is just too strong."_

_No._ I will not indulge in his puppy-love antics. I'm the queen of this underworld show, the loaded gun for fame and success; I'm a drop-dead dream and a Chosen One as the savior of these Bohemian underlings. This penniless writer will mean nothing to me, I swear it! No one ever will as long as I act, put a mask and play my part. But as we finish our grand presentation, Christian looks at me the same way he did before, curiously as if searching into my thoughts. Can you read my mind, Chritisan? Can you? Because for some reason I don't think I mind. No, I don't think I do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly an unpopular opinion, but "Spectacular, Spectacular!" quote I put in this chapter is just the most powerful out of the movie's script. The whole song, I feel, is just so witty and heartbreaking as you go through the movie.


	6. To Take Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six: "Human" (Day and Age, 2008) / "Dying Breed" (Imploding the Mirage, 2020)

In the end, the Duke went off with Harold to sign a contract, leaving the rest of us to celebrate the night away. Outside of my window, the stars blaze like rebel diamonds cut from the sun, and I sit at my vanity once more, trying to scrub away the makeup on my cheeks. My mask has done its job for the night. For a moment, I'm compelled to examine myself, glaring at the eyes that bore back into me.

"Listen," I tell my reflection, "I don't shine if  _ you _ don't shine; we're not here to chase silly boys, we're here to chase  _ dreams. _ Got it?"

I didn't want to celebrate because Christian would be down there and, dammit, i can't get his voice out of my head! I dab at my flaked lips. I am an actress; I am playing the role of the courtesan who woos her Maharaj--I am my own character in this sense and my script does  _ not _ call for a romantic subplot. A knock on the door tells me Marie is here, a smile caked onto her face and a cup of medicine and tea on a ceramic platter.

Here you are, love," She says warmly, "Good job tonight."

I smile gracefully and look at my bird--the poor thing might never know the feeling of flying away from this place! I thank Marie and bid her goodnight and I am once more alone with my thoughts. Damn, my eyes look so tired all of a sudden. I stand and stretch, feeling my spine pop slightly and pinch my nose as I down the elixir. Would Christian think my eyes looked tired?

"Stop this. Go for a walk and clear your mind of these silly thoughts." I command myself.

So I throw on my red dress and slip outside where it's breezy and crips, the air smelling of booze and dry ice. Unsurprisingly, Christian's words continue to conflict me;

_ 'You deserve better.' _

Not his words exactly, but the meaning is all the same, and as I continue to avoid people, my walk brings me to further confusion. Yes, I do deserve better, but how else can I obtain that? I am just another can-can dancer residing in a glorified whore house--the Duke is the only way I still see as viable. I don't have the choice of deserving better; I just need to keep playing my part, wait it out until I finally have the opportunity to free myself. I look up to the sky and sigh;

_ "Are we human or are we dancer? My sign is vital, my hands are cold and I'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we dancer?" _

Because suddenly I don't know anymore. Have I been wrong to barr any sense of deeper connection? The girls, Marie, Harold, my Guardian--they do care about me, in some capacity. Shouldn't that be enough? It's certainly a lot more than I could boast in the past. I turn and head towards the Elephant Room.

_ "Pay my respects to grace and virtue; send my condolences to good. Hear my regards to soul and romance; they always did the best they could. And so long to devotion, you taught me everything I know. Wave goodbye, wish me well!" _

I'm ready to leave--I've been ready to leave since the moment I arrived. But am I really ready to wave goodbye yet? I've worked so hard to leave lost lovers behind; I have worked even harder to be the perfect performer. We all have, at some point in our lives. So could I ever break character here? Do I even deserve to?

_ "Are we human or are we dancer?" _

The night sky glistens with the lights of Paris, still awake and moving as I perch upon the Elephant's roof.

_ "And I'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we dancer?" _

And I stare off into time and space because sometimes that's all we can do for ourselves. Christian, if you were me, which would you choose?  _ Are _ we human, or are we just dancers? I sigh; I'd be lucky if I never find out. It would be too much of a distraction from my career.

"Hello there!"

Startled, I turn to the source of the voice--speak of the Devil!

"What are you doing here?" I ask, "Shouldn't you be downstairs, partying the night away after your success on the pitch?"

Christian smiles shyly and fiddles with his cufflinks.

"I just wanted to come up--I saw you walking earlier--and thank you ," He explains, "Y'know; to thank you for helping me get the job and all."

Oh, right.

I smile as warmly as possibly, "Of course!"

There's an uncomfortably long silence; time to part ways, it seems. Act as if nothing has (of will) ever happened between us. I bid him goodnight, but he cries out in response.

"Wait! Please don't go!"

I sigh, "What's troubling you, then?"

It's just that," Christian stammers, 'Well, what you said to me earlier--did you mean it? If I wasn't a writer..."

Oh, Christian. You had know idea how adorable you sounded back then. I can feel wrinkles crimp in my lips as I smile sadly.

"Christian, I'm a courtesan; men pay me to make them feel like I love them. I'm just acting the part." I explain.

Christian looks down and the ground and chuckles to himself.

"Ah, silly me, thinking you could ever fall in love with someone like me."

...but is it truly that silly to try?

"Like I said, I have no need for love, anyways." I reply.

The boy's eyes dart upwards in an aghast fashion.

"What?! How could you  _ say _ that?" He objects, "Love is like  _ oxygen! _ Love is a many splendid things; love  _ lifts _ us up where we belong!"

"Oh, please, don't start that again!" I interject.

Christian falls quiet, but comes closer; I flinch ever so slightly as he grabs my hand, but nevertheless, I stand my ground.

_ "Look; there's gonna be opposition, ain't no way around it. But if you're looking for a strong and steady, well baby, you found it. We'll weather the coldest night--we're cut from a stained glass mountain, baby, we're a dying breed!" _

Instinctively, I push him away.

"No, stop that! You don't realize what's at stake for me here." I protest; he continues on.

_ "When facing the wind got wicked, we rallied and raised up. So now if she comes back kicking we'll know what we're made of. There's gonna be opposition, but we've got everything we need. Ooh, baby, we're a dying breed!" _

I laugh in his face; what a fool to believe in such follies! Christian knows nothing of the way which the Bohemian world works, he knows nothing about hardening yourself to any fatal flaws of romance or longing lest you wind up starving on the streets. He's a fool and yet here he is, once again bursting forth with song  _ just for me. _ He bursts forth with music soley for me and jumps to the Elephant's head, despite my pleas for his safety.

_ "From the coveted touch of a girl in love, I was lifted by the sound of a spirit in need! Baby, we're a dying breed!" _

Oh, what a madman! I indulge in telling him so!

_ "I don't know what you want from me! Sometimes I don't know what to do! It's like I'm screaming in a dream; it's like I can't get through!" _

"But please!" He laughs, "Just hear me out!"

"Absolutely not!" I cry.

_ "What if we're not prepared for this? What if we just can't find the trail?" _

Chritisan, like an angel, takes face and kisses me: a real, unbridled kiss, neither loaded with desire nor lust. It is a type of kiss I haven't allowed myself to have in a very long time. He kisses me and all of a sudden I remember a promise I made to myself, how I would never let any distractions get into my path, but to Hell with it! We sing in joyous harmony, the stars once again our endless spotlight; 

_ "I was taken by the sound of a spirit in need! Baby, we're a dying breed! We've got everything we need! Baby, we're a dying breed!" _

Yes because even I can fall in love, if only for a little while. Christian, you silly writer, you have no idea what sort of delightful trouble you're going to get us into. Oh, God, I was lifted once again by my spirit in need!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I you haven't yet PLEASE go listen to "Imploding the Mirage"; the album made my summer so much more bearable and is astounding that these guys still make so much music.


	7. In Which the Lovers are Discovered!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNNING: this chapter has some panic attack triggers at the end; just looking out for y'all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly little PSA: I understand that some songs might not fit as well as others, but I was absolutely jamming to the playlist while writing this, so let's just keep partying hard shall we? And remember--preferences differ, my dudes. The concept of first POV combined with extended song lyrics was already experimental for me; some of it will be Skippy-smooth and some of it will not. But that's just how fanfiction works.
> 
> Regardless, I hope y'all are still enjoying the retelling.
> 
> Chapter Seven: "When We Were Young" (Hot Fuss, 2004)

After that fateful duet, Harold officially secured the means to start production: we had roughly a week before opening night and I managed to spend every waking moment in my loverboy's arms. We'd make love in the moonlight, the stars giggling, watching him move within me in a way that never made me feel the weight of my worth. Christian was kind--no demands, no crude compliments, none of that lowly stuff I get made meager pennies to perform. No, not my angel; he made me feel things I never thought I would experience again. And it was beautiful, oh, so beautiful.

Christian wanted me for who I was when my costume was hung and my mask was taken off. And loved him for that--I always will, no matter what may come. 

It wasn't hard to keep the Duke distracted; a wink here, a smile there, and an airy promise for an evening together always cowed him. The poor toad had no idea what we were up to whenever we were out and 'rehearsing'. Only my chocolate Guardian knew of our misdeeds--he was always watching, never judging. Toulouse knew too, of course; we would always rehearse together in Christian's flat, the two of us kissing and sweet-talking while Toulouse happily chatted about his lines. Christian, oh, we had it all! You loved me and I loved you so  _ much _ that I was so close to giving up my silly dreams of stardom and growing old with you. Christians, why, I think you were teaching me something about myself!

Alias, like all things good and pure, this lesson ran too short...

*****************************

"Will we be practicing the 'lovers meet in the humble abode' scene?" 

Christian pops his head in between us, the Duke and I conversing over trivial things. Anxiety immediately rises within--the Duke has gotten more and more persistent with date nights and I have become more and more disinterested!

He turns to me frantically, "But, my dear, I've arranged for us to have a magnificent supper in the gothic tower this evening! You  _ promised _ tonight you would be available."

Both men stare at me intently, demanding an answer. So, I set a firm lip and commanding eye; there's always snares in the plan, it seems.

"Herr Duke, we simply are going to have to reschedule!" I declare, winking at Christian, "The lovers simply  _ must _ meet in their humble abode; this scene is one of the most important ones in the production!"

I glance at Christian--the dope is positively ecstatic, grinning vehemently. Before the Duke can protest, I excuse myself, knowing that my darling Christian is not far behind me. We retreat to the balcony, making no effort to contain our affection. I pull us behind the curtain, Christian already covered in my makeup.

"Hey," He breathes, low and light, "I love you!"

He pins us gently against the drapes, kissing my face and neck while i dig my fingers into that beautiful brown hair of his. 

"Silly writer; I love you too!"

And for a brief moment, I forget about the show; I forget about the Duke, the money, the Moulin Rouge--all of it! None of it matters because they, no matter how much fame and freedom, can give me what Christian gives me. And, somehow, a part of me is ready to accept that.

"Will you come tonight?" Christian asks, his face a collage of my kisses.

I brush him away, giggling, "Yes! I will be there at eight o'clock!"

He makes an extravagant show of blowing kisses towards me, all which I return with gusto, catching them and throwing him some of my own. Once he scrambles off (likely to some silly writer-business with Toulouse), I am left by myself with giddy awe. Perhaps I  _ can _ include a love story into my own plotline.

Then, Harold looms out of the shadows.

Oh,  _ God, _ no.

"What are you doing?" He cries in a hushed tone, "The Duke is giving you everything; he's set up a new dressing room, dresses--he wants to make you a  _ star! _ And, for some reason you're  _ dallying _ with the goddamn  _ writer?!" _

I try to laugh it off, play the dumb and ditzy girl who's simply toying with her next victim--anything that will prove to him and myself that such is the case.

I laugh, "Oh, Harold, I don't--"

_ "I saw you together!" _

...Christian, please; remember that I love you more than  _ anything _ is this world.

"Don't be silly, Harold, it's...it's just an infatuation, nothing serious..."

I just to spin an excuse, another lie to save myself and our asses, but it's no use. We were doomed from the beginning. Harold turns a cold eye to me.

"Go to the boy, tell him it's over. You have a job to do, angel."

I look to my caretaker, my protector from the streets in horror.

_ "No! _ I can't!" I gasp.

The infatuation  _ will _ end."

With that, he turns and leaves me...oh, God, Christian! Christian, my love, my life; this cannot end! You've given me so much and I'm starting to learn about myself and what  _ I _ deserve in life , what dreams will make  _ me _ happy! No, we cannot be taken away from each other, not yet! Not so soon! Oh, the world is spinning, spinning, spinning and everything has turned ugly and spoiled; I cannot get this  _ dreadful _ feeling out of my head!

**_You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways--you play forgiveness; watch it now--_ **

The world tilers off its pedestal and suddenly burns with a heat so malicious and unforgiving and all the stars in my eyes explode and I am gasping for breath-- _ argh! _ Please, please...no you can't take him away! My lungs are squeezing close and even wheezing is getting harder oh God oh God oh God  _ please _ Christian you can't...I can't...all I see is blood and red and my hair the color of fire tumbling as the floor zooms in and...and...I cannot  _ breath! _ Christian,  _ help! _ I cannot--


	8. In the End...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight: "Fire and Bone" (Imploding the Mirage, 2020)

"Where were you last night?"

How could I tell him? That I had fainted flush on the hardwood floor, only to be so feverish and drugged-up by the doctor that I could barely stand? That I coughed up blood for the majority of the night, so much so that it stained the bed sheets and rug of my dressing room? No, Christian does not need to know this. In all honesty, if anyone else found out about my condition, the whole production--the Moulin Rouge's fate, too--would be in jeopardy. I pull the covers closer to my body.

"I was sick, that's all." I whisper.

It's a lie, I guess; last night, when I was barely awake, I could hear Marie and Babydoll sobbing, saying that I might  _ die _ soon. Hah! Imagine that--Satine, the Sparkling Diamond, dying! Absurd! Still, Christian cannot know; I play a character that he will never understand, someone who doesn't let stupid  _ distractions _ like love or illness get in the way of their goals. I was a fool to ever let my guard down...even for him.

"Christian," I sigh, "I don't think we can keep this up anymore..."

To my surprise, he vaults off his stool, eyes full of fright and distress. He tries to take my hands, but for once I snatch them away.

"Christian, no! You don't realize the trouble we are causing!" I snap.

Christian urges, "Satine, please, hear me out!"

"No, Christian!"

"Please, if you--"

_ "You do not understand!" _

"But I love you!"

Christian, don't you understand?

"And I love you too!"

It doesn't matter whether we loved each other--this has got nothing to do with love! So, for the first time in weeks, I burst into tears. How could he and his romantic mind ever understand love isn't always the highest power? Christian then scrambles into the bed and grabs my head, kissing my forehead over and over again as tears dribble on. 

"Then, I'll write us a song," He declares, "That way, when you sing it and I sing, we'll both know that nothing can come between us! We'll know that nothing, not even the worst mistakes or misfortunes, shall stand in our way!"

"But what about the Duke?" I question, trying to pull away.

"He'll never know what it means to us!"

And this time, when he pulls me closer, I give in. Who cares anymore, really? We're fighting for our love now, not just my path to stardown. I might as well let someone save me for a change. Christian tilts his face so I can see him better, and sings forth a new song.

_ "I felt cast out, I felt eighty-sixed, I felt darkness, but I felt fire in bone. I felt no good, I felt low-down, and I felt alone; I felt unknown." _

He strokes me, running his hands and fingers through my firey hair, singing with all his might, while I still try to fight him off, getting weaker and weaker in my conviction. I don't even know what to  _ do _ anymore!

_ "I felt ripped off, run down, wrung out, empty, unseen, and preyed upon--I felt fire in bone!" _

Oh, my thoughts are so blurry! Yes, Christian, because we really were lowly before we had each other, right? Did you experience love the way I did? Were you ever beaten and bruised, ever drained of all your romance and passion? Are we the same? Maybe, if we have time, we can learn more about each other, too. But right now, all I can think of is all willing to shed my costume, take off this miserable mask of mine and just kiss you, just  _ be _ with you! See me as I am, Christian, naked and open in the dawning light.

_ "They say no one's gonna save you; you've gotta make it on your own, but I called from the dark and you picked up the phone on my back in the raging blue, I looked up, and you cut right through--" _

Christian, you were giving me something that I will hold onto for the rest of my existence. I may have not known it yet, but as we laid together, singing in a love-language only we understood, the world became clearer, bolder. It's obstacles were dissolving before my eyes!

_ "And when I came back empty-handed, you met me in the road and you fell on my neck and you took me back home, after all that I took from you; after all that I put you through--here I am!" _

********************

I rehearse this song, over and over until it is the script of my soul, replaying it and dreaming of you as our Argentinian friend lends us his sweet baritone to play your part;

_ "And when I came back empty-handed, you met me in the road and you fell on my neck and you took me back home, after all that I took from you; after all that I put you through--here I am!" _

Yes; here I am! And no matter what, as the cheap crown on my head jostled around and glitters, as the dancers jump around on our brand-new stage, I feel the fire you've sent into my bones. Yes, Christian, because my heart  _ burns _ for you still!

_ "After all that I took from you; after all that I put you through--here I am!" _

But then I see Nini--that _ bitch _ \--whisper something in the Duke's ear that makes him frown. He stands; the rehearsal stops.

With a sharp inhale, he hisses, "I don't  _ like _ this ending."

It takes every ounce of control not to throw my hands in the air or curse outward.  _ Goddammit, _ Nini! Harold, his gaudy costume hat drooping over his eyebrows, scrambles to me our proprietor's demands.

"What, dear Duke, do you not like about it?" He asks sweetly.

The Duke sniffs indignantly and I want to  _ throw _ my crown at him; Toulouse rolls his eyes, nose-deep in yet another bottle of acid-green booze.

"I don't like this  _ ending," _ He repeats, "Why would the courtesan choose the penniless sitar player?"

The Duke looks across the scene, his gaze darign anyone and everyone to even try and answer his question--Christian looks absolutely livid.

The Duke continues, _"Why_ choose the penniless sitar player, when the Maharaja can offer a lifetime of wealth? When he can offer safety and security? _Hm?_ _Why_ does she--"

_ "Because she doesn't  _ **_love_ ** _ you!" _

It's as if God's lead spotlight has fallen upon Christian. Son of a  _ bitch.  _ The penniless writer shuffles awkwardly in response to the sudden attention.

_ "Him," _ He stammers, "She doesn't love  _ him." _

There's a quirt, unsettling pause--I decide to make my move. I climb down from the stage, my shadow casting upon the Duke the image of a powerful princess, descending to reclaim her kingdom. Regardless of my worth, this is still  _ my _ stage,  _ my _ Moulin Rouge, and  _ my _ life--no silly words are going to ruin that. Not when my goals are so close now! To my satisfaction, the Duke instinctively takes the  _ slightest _ step back, a stutter to acknowledge a greater force of power. I hold my head up high.

"Oh, Herr Duke," I bellow, "You've invested so much  _ time _ and  _ interest _ into us and you have been thus far treated  _ appallingly! _ These silly  _ writers _ \--" I glare at Christian "--just don't know when enough is  _ enough _ with their follies!"

I take the Duke by the wrist.

"Now, why don't you and I forget all about this and have a little supper tonight, shall we?"

Once again, his smile makes my skin crawl.


	9. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the song that starts it all: the headcanons, the retcons, the wild, Killers-esce AU; go and watch the music video because you cannot tell me Flowers and the band didn't model it after the Moulin Rouge (there's just so many similarities good lord).
> 
> Chapter Nine: "Mr. Brightside" (Hot Fuss, 2004)
> 
> WARNING: Depictions of assault, blood, and violence.

I was going to save us all.

Yes, that was why I was going; we _all_ were now in jeopardy. All the girls and boys careers here, their homes even--I couldn't throw that all away for them just because of my _stupid_ infatuations. I simply couldn't. So, Marie strapped me into my best corset, helped me into my blackest, darkest satin dress, and together with her and Harold wished me luck. This is it: I am at the belly of the beast, the doorsteps to Hell, even. The Gothic Tower is ready and awaiting me.

I am going to _save us all._

The Duke sends out an escort, the man-servant guiding me towards my opponent in his own home territory. I set my jaw; nothing can break me down.

"My dear," The Duke drawls, "How _delightful_ of you to join me on this overdue evening."

Outside, I can hear music: the Moulin Rouge was singing; singing something desperate and feverish. It was breathing to life the predicament we are all facing, the dancers probably twirling away their sorrows and fear. I can picture Christian, bursting forth with a song I do not want him to have to sing. Christian, my darling! Please, you _know_ this is something I must do. I have to keep the act up, temper the Duke until we have won this battle.

"Yes," I lie, "I am so enchanted to _finally_ have some time _alone_ together."

The Duke smiles, his lips crooked and conniving and in that moment I suddenly have this urge to _run_ \--but I can't. Not with so many things on the line. I'm going to save us all, whatever it takes of me. This is the climax of my production, the struggle which the heroine faces on her path to greatness! I will _not_ cave to _any_ sort of pressure, not here, not now. The Duke takes a smoke from his pipe, offering me a drag, which I take gratefully. I wonder if Christian smokes? I can ask him when I get back, I will ask him so many things once this is all over and then _learn_ more about _him;_ there are so many things I do not--

"Do you hear that, princess?"

The Duke's words pulls me from my stream of thought and I nod, craning my neck to listen better the windmill once more;

_"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, turning through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis! But it's just the price I pay; destiny is calling me! Open up my eager eyes, cause I'm Mr Brightside!"_

"That's that Argentinian fellow, right, my love?" The Duke muses pleasantly, "He's got such a robust voice...he doesn't quite fit the role of the sitar player, though..."

I agree as our meal arrives, but as I sit smiling prettily while the Duke chatters on about my career, my role, and my beautiful talent, I cannot help but become distracted; I can now hear Christian's voice in the air. It sounds melancholy, crying and keening with pain. My heart can barely take it! Oh, Christian, please! Hold on just a little longer; I'm doing this for _us!_ Hold on--I'm doing just fine! I gotta be because we--because _I_ \--want it all. I want both my dream _and_ you...

"Herr Duke, the supper is lovely, but shouldn't we carry on to more _decadent_ things?" I purr, the Duke grinning like a weasel.

"Of course, my sweet, whatever you wish."

Goddammit, here I go. It's time for the mask to be placed on once more.

Outside, the world has stopped and I can hear the music swelling stronger. I'd give anything to be down there, dancing my dignity away for any other man than this one. Abruptly, I push out against the table and rise; the Duke joins me and snaps his fingers at a nearby servant, who then quickly disappears and returns with a velvet box. The Duke takes it and pops it open, revealing a necklace so heavily laced with diamonds I feel a sudden prickle of tears. God, _real_ _diamonds!_ This necklace is worth more than any paycheck I've ever received--this piece of eye candy is worth more than _myself_ , probably. I stare at it dumbly.

"A gift from this Maharaj to _his_ courtesan." The Duke states, clasping it crisply to my neck.

Oh, shit! This is all of a sudden too much for me.

**_I never..._ **

I head to the balcony, the hairs on the back of my neck telling me that my client is following close behind. Instinctively, I stiffen as he slides up against me, his abdomen pressed uncomfortably close to my backside. The Duke then slips a hand along my neck; it isn't the gentle, curious touch that Christian has, but a possessive and retalitive one. It is the touch of an animal released from its cage.

**_I never..._ **

"And the ending?" I ask desperately, boldly.

The Duke smirks and grabs too tightly.

"Let Zidler keep his fairytale ending."

Oh, God, Christian...I don't think I can do this.

**_I never..._ **

No! I can and I _will!_ I have faced scarier foes, I have faced harsher realities than this! I can no longer be afraid because being afraid is what held me captive in the first place! Being _afraid_ is what's kept me tied down to this awful place; kept me from trying to find what it is that I want from my _own_ life! I deserve my own story and I deserve to write it how I want to write it! I deserve all this and more so I will take this one last hit to the heart because I _am_ capable of so much and _more_. Yes, this is the last time I shall sacrifice my true desires for something unwanted!

And then I see Christian, wandering about on the cold Moulin Rouge grounds, singing his miserable heart away for me.

I deserve to choose who I love; it can no longer be the other way around.

Bravely, I whisper, "After all that I've put you through; here I am. Christian, _here I am."_

Christian looks up; the Duke growls.

"I _see."_

Immediately, I dash into the building, trying my best to put as much space as I can between me and my incoming assailant, a man who is now charging me with all his fury. Panic is rising as I try to run--oh, _shit!_ It started out with a kiss; how did it end up like this?! It was only a kiss, it was only a _kiss_ I swear that's all and he _knows_ I'm paid to make men fall in love with me. How could _he_ have been so naive as well?! I didn't mean to fail! The Duke roars malicious and aggressive vows, chasing me and throwing plates at my arms and body as I shriek for help and shield my pretty face. I then trip for my _damned_ dress and continue to scream for help, for God, and for the Devil to _strike him down_ where he stands! I kick off my shoes and try to get up, blood gushing from my cuts, but the Duke barrels over the table and pins me, drags me up to stand and digs his fingers into my skin _goddammit_ I need help! _Please!_

"You repulsive, little _whore!"_ He snarls, gripping so hard I can hear crunching in my wrists, "You _made_ me believe you **_loved me!"_ **

Before I even have the chance to defend myself, the Duke rips the necklace off me, shredding my collar bone and soft skin to pieces. Like a madwoman, I kick, I claw, and I try to bit my attacker as best as i can, trying so hard not to freeze in fear as he grips harder and tears off the remains of my dress, seething foul deeds and demands as I begin to sob, snot and drool dripping down my ugly mask. The Duke slaps me so hard and so suddenly that my ears are ringing and the music from outside is also ringing, ringing in my ears as the Duke grabs my neck and shoulders and _throws_ me into the awaiting bed.

_"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, turning through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis! But it's just the price I pay; destiny is calling me! Open up my eager eyes, cause I'm Mr Brightside!"_

"No!" I scream, "No, you cannot force me to give him up! I love _him_ and you cannot force me to love someone else, even if it's you! He is _mine_ and _you_ cannot take that away from me!"

**_I never..._ **

"And you are _mine,_ you filthy, infidel _slut!"_ The Duke shrieks.

**_I never..._ **

"Stop! Please, stop this--"

**_THWACK!_ **

The Duke lays stunned on the ground. My Guardian stands still in the shadows. I crumple into the bed and roll off to the ground, all bloody and bruised. Gently, Le Chocolat picks up my broken body as I continue to sob, begging to just go _home._

I had gone and _doomed us all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot take: the musical rewrite should have used this song when replacing "Roxanne"--it fits so much better, honestly.


	10. The Road is Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Ten: "Run for Cover" (Wonderful, Wonderful; 2017) "Have All the Songs Been Sung?" (Wonderful, Wonderful; 2017)

He took me to his own chambers, grabbed a switch blade and bandaged me up, and smuggled me out once more, the whole time I cling fast as my Guardian murmurs reassurances over and over and over until we are in Christian's flat and I am in my lover's arms.

"I  _ couldn't _ do it!" I sob, "I just couldn't keep  _ lying--" _

"I know, I know!" Christian whispers, grabbing me and holding me tight, tighter than any human has ever held me before.

He turns to my Guardian, "Le Chocolat, go gather Madam Satine's belongings--we leave tonight."

"I understand." He replies. 

What? Leaving? But the show, the girls, Harold, Marie, Toulouse--what about the Duke?! People are counting on  _ me _ to save the Moulin Rouge, our home; I can't just run away and  _ abandon _ them! I can't forsaken them to the mess that I and only  _ I _ have made!

"Christian, we can't just  _ run away!" _ I cry.

"Yes, we  _ can," _ He insists, kissing my wounds and tears, "We can start our lives over, leave this hellhole forever!"

He smiles and grabs my hands so gently that my resolve melts like ice in the sun. Of course we can run! We could go somewhere else in France, England; Hell, we could even go to America! We can go anywhere else but here to find our new home, write our own scripts! I laugh and follow my Guardian back to my homely dressing room, suddenly filled with joy. I tear off my bed sheets, grab a gown--Nini can have the rest, or Arabia, or China Doll, I don't care--and throw out all my makeup; I will not be wearing a mask for a  _ very _ long time. No, I don't care who fills in my role, who ascends to pick up the broken pieces of my can-can legacy. From now on, I'm making my  _ own _ legacy; I am making my own path to become an actress and preserve the love I already have. I will make my own story and  _ nobody _ can change that! Nobody can...

_ "Ah! _ What are you doing here?!"

Harold stands in my doorway, an unpleasant expression creased into his face.

"Forgive the intrusion, Cherub, but we need to talk."

Then, as suddenly as it had come upon me, my resolve turns to rage. I turn angrily to face my protector, my employer, and--now--my betrayer.

"Don't you  _ dare _ try to stop me!" I seeth, moving about in a frenzy, "You cannot  _ control me _ anymore!"

Harold scoffs darkly, "And what are you waiting for, hm? For a kiss and an apology? For the Duke to try and sooth his errors over you?"

I throw more things into my beat-up suitcase.

"All of my life, you've taught me that I'm only worth what someone is willing to  _ pay _ for  _ my body! _ " I shriek, "But Christian--Christian loves me for who I  _ am; _ he loves  _ me, _ so much and you cannot take that away from me! So, I'm going to start my own story by saying goodbye to you, to the Moulin Rouge, forever!"

"The Duke wants Christian killed," Harold explains, "I know it's even harder when the dirtbag's famous and powerful, but he  _ will _ have Christian killed, unless you sleep with me on opening night."

"Then, I'll keep running!" I spit, tears run raggedly down my face.

"Satine! You are  _ dying!" _

The world suddenly stops. I was wrong.

I was wrong to believe--

_ "What?" _

I was wrong to believe I had any control; my story was destined to end tragically one way or another... _ Christian I am so sorry... _

Harold clasps his hands, pleading, "There's only one way to save him: go to the boy, tell him it was all a lie. Tell him--"

"No!" I cry, "I cannot! I cannot--"

"Use your talent! Convince him in order to save him, Satine! Save us  _ all _ by saving him. Please," Harold looks down, "It's the only way."

I find myself staring dumbly into my mirror, its frame looking tarnished and ugly. A small lump lays still in an aluminum cage; my bird has died.

"I..."

And I sit down, staring off into space and time once more, the weight of my destiny--this emergency change in my script--crashing upon me with full-force.

_ "I gotta run for cover; run while you can, baby, don't look back! You gotta run for cover! Don't be afraid of the fear, that's a played out trap! And I know you're not the only one, but don't look back, just run for cover!" _

Yes, he does; we all do. Christian, you need to  _ run. _

***************

_ "Have all the songs been written? Have all the truths been told? Has all the gas been siphon? Do the plains still carry gold?" _

The Moulin Rouge is weeping, its ensemble and inhabitants moaning solemn and woeful songs, looking upon their final destiny rising in the morning light.

_ "Have all the songs been written? Have all your needs been met? Have all these years been worth it? Or am I the greatest regret?" _

I sit, checking my makeup--my flaking, melting face one last time. My dress is black, my eyes are cruel, and I am stoic. Brave.  _ Fearless. _ I will be fearless for him; I will be fearless for them  _ all. _

_ "Have all the songs been written? Oh, I just need one to get through to you. Oh, I just need one more to get through to you. I can't take back what I've done wrong and I just need one more..." _

And I glide down the stairs, my fellow cast members in this sickening story that we call life watching as I descend to a new low in my life. I walk past Harold, out the door, and straight into Toulouse. The poor idiot is stained acid-green once more. I bend down to whisper into his ear.

"Please, take care of him for me." I beg.

The windmill continues to sing;

_ "When the train returns to the rails, when the ship is back in the harbor; I will make you happy again. I can see a life for you and I." _

Whether or not he understands, I do not know. It doesn't matter anymore, however; God knows what's left to understand, anyways.

*******************

"You're  _ joking." _

"No, Christian, I'm not. I am a courtesan--it never was real in the first place."

"No, you can't be serious!"

"I am trained and paid to make men  _ believe _ what they want to hear from me. I'm an actress; you should know this by now."

"No, you're lying even to yourself, now; Satine, you're my  _ everything! _ I  _ love--" _

"Well, have you ever thought about how  _ I _ feel? I am so close to my dream, to my destiny that awaits me...I'd be a fool to let something as silly as  _ love _ get in my way."

"But, you  _ promised _ that, no matter what--"

_ I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this... _

"Goodbye, Christian! Please, for your own sake, leave me  _ alone." _


	11. ...He Heard Her Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eleven: "Runaways" (Battleborn, 2012) / "Imploding the Mirage" (Imploding the Mirage, 2020) / "I Can't Stay" (Day and Age, 2008)

This is it: the grand finale.  _ My _ grand finale. 

I sit in my room, letting Marie brush my hair for perhaps the last time, for every breath I draw is getting more and more ragged and painful. I am near my end, but there is still too much to do; I will pull together my dream, somehow, some way. I wipe off my makeup and begin reapplying, Marie kissing my forehead and working out the snarls in the wildfire that is my hair.

"What you did was very brave--I'm proud of you, Satine. We all are." Marie murmurs, but I am long-past listening.

There's no reason left for me to be listening, anyways. All my lines have already been wasted.

*************

Eventually, I got to my number, my skimpy costume drenched in cold sweat and my head weighed down by costume jewelry and blue lighting. I dance my sad, little dance, singing about running away and second chances and all these other things that I simply no longer believe in. Things I no longer deserve. I get through my first scene with the penniless lover, the Argentinian playing him not quite the way he really is; this same Argentinian promised me earlier that he and Toulouse and the others made sure that my darling was safe. Funny, a part of me just can't wait until tomorrow; the show will be over, I will have done my damning deed with the Duke, Christian will probably be gone, running off to the other side of the globe. I'm okay with it, I think. I'm ready for this all to end.

"Satine..."

Oh,  _ God _ , no.

Christian stands behind me, hisd reflection in mty mirror displaying a wad of paper in his left hand. Out on stage, I can hear the Argentinean and maybe Nini singing in the ensemble;

_ "We used to laugh, but now we fight; are you lonesome now?" _

He's coming, rushing me with angry eyes--Christian, you don't understand what's going on!

"Stop! You shouldn't be here!" I plead, trying to move away, "You don't understand--"

"I don't  _ need _ to--just let me pay you liek the rest of them and I will leave." Christian growls, "That's your  _ job, _ right? To make men believe in what you say to make them feel like they're  _ worth _ something?"

I rush to the entry stairs; Harold's lines are cueing me on, but the Argentinean is nowhere in sight and now some of the dancer boys are trying to tackle Christian to the ground but he fends them off with ease, possessed by jealousy and something frightening. I catch a glance of the Duke's lackey; Warner, no! He's following us! Stop, stop, stop; Christian! I need to go, get up on stage and away from this--I need to go I need to go I need to go I need to--

"Christian, please! You need to  _ leave!" _

"Just let me pay you!"

"No, he's going to--"

**_"Liar!_ ** Let me pay you and be done with this-this  _ madness!" _

_ "Christian!" _

The pulley door slams open and I am exposed, blurry-eyed and covered in soiled eyeshadow, mascara, and snot. I take small snapshots of all the girls' horrified expressions; Harold looks on with sad, broken eyes while the front row, the Duke watches, aghast. There's no denying it--I've run out of time.

Christian tosses me roughly to the hardwood floor and snarls, "You can have her; I'm done."

He tosses a few rumpled bills at my face; the audience gasps.

"I've paid my  _ whore!" _

Before I can protest, Christian bends down and bares his teeth at me, trying his best to hold back his own sobs.

"Thank you for curing me of my  _ ridiculous _ obsession with  _ love!" _ He chokes out, his own mask as messy as mine.

...and he leaves me.

Harold comes and pulls me to my feet, reciting his own lines to try and cover up the insane mess that I've made.

"You did your best, my child," He whispers, "The show must one on! And he will now be safe from harm--it's best as it is."

But I cannot believe him; I cannot accept this as my best. After all the mistakes I've made, all the suffering I have put myself through, chasing after my own independence and a dream far-long gone from my grasp, I  _ deserve _ to prove myself. I deserve better! I can be better, be bolder!

I can be  _ brave, _ again.

**_After all that I've put you through, here I am..._ **

I stand, take the center of my stage once more, ready to sing away the last of my songbird spirit. This  _ here _ \--right now--is my encore.

_ "You gave me reservations and the like, for he could be the dangerous type. But I threw caution cause something about that yin and the yang waas pushing my boundaries out beyond my imagining..." _

I can see his steps slow, his mind whirring, his heart pulling at all the ugly things that have happened to us. Yes, he stops. Listen to me, Christian!

_ "I had to do it, I had no other choice; you've got to listen to the inside voice! Sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining..." _

Don't you dare stop listening, loverboy! It's my turn to sing my heart out to you, give back all the love and dependability and faith I have in you! Christian turns and I can hear him, his voice soaring above the audience's muttering in order to join mine;

_ "While you were out there chewing on fat for probable cause, I let go! While you were out there weighing odds, I was imploding the mirage! While you were out there looking like that, I struck my name from the camouflage; I wasn't lost in the collage--I was imploding the mirage! I was imploding the mirage!" _

Oh, Christian! My darling, my dearest, my beautiful loverboy! You showed that I can be _ brave! _

_ "While you were out there chewing on fat for probable cause, I let go! While you were out there weighing odds, I was imploding the mirage! While you were out there looking like that, I struck my name from the camouflage; I wasn't lost in the collage--I was imploding the mirage! I was imploding the mirage!" _

Yes! Yes you showed me  _ so much _ about myself!

W take each other in the arms, lay kisses in waves upon are sweaty, sparkling faces once more and swear to each other a love unbreakable in all senses; together, we burst forth in song as the rest of the stage joins us in our call;

_ "While you were out there chewing on fat for probable cause, I let go! While you were out there weighing odds, I was imploding the mirage! While you were out there looking like that, I struck my name from the camouflage; I wasn't lost in the collage--I was imploding the mirage! I was imploding the mirage!" _

There's cheering, clapping and roses being thrown; in the midst of chaos, Harold lands a punch on the Duke, silencing him from our lives for good. We sign and sing and sing even though my lungs are burning and all my medicine has run out--I refuse to stop singing because I  _ refuse _ to be afraid because I love him. Yes! This is the finale curtain, the last act of my five-star career! Christian, _ I love you! _

_ "I was imploding the mirage!" _

"Christian, I love you!"

******************

_ "Christian! Listen to me!" _

_ He stares at me intently as the others crowd around us. There is so much to tell him but my time is running out... _

_ "Darling, I knew I had to make my decision, but I never made the time. No, I never made the time. But, please, listen; listen, for me, please." _

_ "But you can't leave me, not after all this!" He sobs. _

_ I gently grab his face, stroking my thumb against his cheek. Oh, you are as beautiful as the day I first saw you, silly boy. I will never leave you--no, I promise to somehow always be a part of your life. I know it! _

_ "Christian, sweetheart,it's okay; I'll be in the dark for a while now--I can't stay so far; I can't stay much longer. And that's okay; I'm riding my decision home" _

_ I take one last, deep, blood-filled breath. Slowly, weakly, I kiss my fingertips and place the gift onto his nose--it leaves a lovely shade matte on him. _

_ "Christian,  _ **_my star;_ ** _ thank you. Thank you, for I cannot be who I was...without you..." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, god, it hurt to write this one. Like, actual tears were rolling down my cheeks all silently and solemnly as I killed her off gahhhhhh.
> 
> Also, there's just something so endearing and enamoring about the final "Come What May" performance; I love it.


	12. Bolero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thank you everyone who stuck with this. Like I mentioned, this is a bit adventurous for concept, so I appreciate all the support. There's just something so magical about this movie that makes me come back time and time again, learning something new from it with each view. If anyone wants to discuss the story, you know where to find me on my platforms.
> 
> Chapter Twelve: "My Own Soul's Warning" (Imploding the Mirage, 2020)
> 
> P.S~ I for some reason choose this song to blast in my stereos whenever I need to hype myself up for a shift. Don't know why, but I don't care ;)

**_I tried going against my own soul's warning, but in the end, something just didn't feel right. Oh, I tried diving even though the sky was storming; I just wanted to get back to where you are..._ **

_ So you see, Christian, you were not the first person to have my heart; you were not the first special person in my life--so few ever get to hold that honor, really. In fact, the very same can be said about you; I'm sure i won't be your last, either! But, God, you gave me something incredible, that's for sure. Something off-script; something original. _

_ Something beautiful. _

_ You gave me a way to make my own destiny. _

**_I tried going against my own soul's warning and in the end, something just didn't feel right. Oh, I tried diving, even though the sky was storming; thunderheads were forming--_ **

_ Christian, my angel, my darling loverboy, I thank you with every song we've shared, every star we've seen; you gave me a reason to fight for myself, for my own love and not for a false infatuation. You helped me be fearless until the end. _

**_\--but man I thought I could fly! And when I hit the ground, it made a messed up sound and it kept on rattling through my days and cutting up my nights like a goddamned knife, and it got me thinking, no matter how far, that I just wanted to get back to where you are!_ **

_ Yes, thank you, Christian! _

**_No matter how far, I just wanted to get back to where you are!_ **

_ Yes, hah! I was fearless until the very end; I was the finest actress this Bohemian world ever knew! I battled foes, struck down tragedy, and reunited with my lover all in one day! Yes, this is the grandest finale anyone could ever dream of...the heroine prevailed; the mask was shattered. Brava! Yes, brava... _

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the song list's link (for those who want to compare with the original track):
> 
> https://foriamproud-blog.tumblr.com/post/637148845191708672/naturegirl-song-list.
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!


End file.
